


Oh, a nice watch below wouldn't do us any harm.

by Kt_fairy



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pre-Canon, do not copy to another site, misuse of naval property
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22318255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: “Francis?”The Lieutenant shot upright in his bunk, grabbing onto the rail. “What’s happened?” He gasped a little too loudly, and James stepped further into the cabin to hush him.“Nothing, nothing. It’s only me.”Francis blinked at him owlishly, and then sagged, glancing around his immaculate cabin as he smoothed a hand over his neat red hair. “James? What on earth…” he looked over James’ partial state of dress, then quickly to the half closed door. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” Francis hissed, making as if to get out of his bunk but then seemed to think better of it.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Sir James Clark Ross
Comments: 15
Kudos: 61





	Oh, a nice watch below wouldn't do us any harm.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gwerfel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwerfel/gifts).



> Well, here we are. I might as well dip my toe into some Rossier.
> 
> This fic stands on it's own, but is also sort of in conjunction with [ the big boy fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832765/chapters/52103767) currently going on. So you don't need to read that for this to make sense, but if you want to I won't stop you :P
> 
> Enjoy!

James Ross listened intently for the third time since he had stepped out of his cabin. It had been three or four steps at most for him to cross the passageway, but it was enough of a distance that a young man might have to answer questions as to why he was up and creeping around the freezing decks at night. Luckily _Fury_ seemed to be on his side, the creaking of her ropes and timbers loud enough to cover the sound of James sliding open a cabin door and the creak as he half closed it behind him.

He had made such a good job of his silence that the inhabitant of the cabin had not stirred, and James gently cleared his throat before whispering quite forcefully.“Francis?”

The Lieutenant shot upright in his bunk, grabbing onto the rail. “What’s happened?” He gasped a little too loudly, and James stepped further into the cabin to hush him.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s only me.”

Francis blinked at him owlishly, and then sagged, glancing around his immaculate cabin as he smoothed a hand over his neat red hair. “James? What on earth…” he looked over James’ partial state of dress, then quickly to the half closed door. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” Francis hissed, making as if to get out of his bunk but then seemed to think better of it. “Indiscretion is being _looked_ for after what happened…”

“Fear not Francis, I’ve not snuck into your cabin looking to steal your virtue,” James teased, giving Francis his most charming smile that was met with a sour look. 

“I am on the brink of telling you to get out.”

“Peace. I want to show you something, will you come with me?”

“Show me what?” Francis asked, and James almost laughed at how Irish he became when he got suspicious. 

“If I tell you then I cannot show you.”

“You are being coy.”

“Francis!”

“If you are showing me in the middle of the night then I have the right to be wary over what it is.”

“And rightly so. But, Francis, aren’t you the slightest bit curious?”

They were explorers after all, and curiosity would always be their weakness.

“Fine,” Francis sighed, slipping out of his bunk. He dressed in much the same way that James had, pulling his trousers on over his long underwear and nightshirt, trying to be quiet as he tugged on his boots, and then slipped into his greatcoat that he buttoned up to his throat. 

They moved as quietly through the ship as two men could, glad of the thunderous snores of the men slung up in the fo'c'sle and the sounds of the ship as they hurried down the ladder towards the orlop.

“Hold,” James said under his breath when they pulled level with the armoury, and Francis stood holding up the lamp to help illuminate James as he rooted about in his pockets for the key to the door. 

He let out a little sound of triumph when he finally produced it, and was a little disappointed that Francis was looking back towards the ladder and had missed his big reveal. "Frank."

Francis hummed as he turned back to James, He squinted at he key through the gloom and then turned widened eyes to James. "How did you get that?"

"I said I would look the other way if the gunroom steward did not ask."

"Look the other way for what?"

"Telling you rather defeats the object of looking the other way, old man."

"Good grief," Francis muttered. "Open the bloody door then, before someone catches us."

James was careful to ease open the lock, feeling that every clink and clunk of the mechanism was booming through the ship, before ushering Francis inside.

He turned, ready to state his case, and sighed at the sight of his friend checking over the gun lockers as if this were an inspection. “Francis, really.”

“What?” 

“I am not here to show you the lockers!”

Francis glanced up from one of the locks with his eyebrow arched ever expressively, then straightened. "No I cannot imagine that you are, having swiped the armoury key for an _assignation."_

"Do not sound so like my maiden aunt."

"You don't have a maiden aunt."

"That’s not the point,” Ross huffed, and stepped closer. “It’s been rather a bad time these past few weeks, Frank. We’ve all been on edge with those pressure ridges at the hull and that flogging, and I…”

James rubbed his hands together, the brash confidence he had talked himself into waning now he had managed to get Francis here.

Maybe he had made this too complicated, and spontaneity would have been the way to go. Most officers offered comfort to one another when the moments arose (as it were) on these long voyages, and for it to happen suddenly was a lot less damaging than all the forethought James had put into this _escapade._

There had simply been enough dangers that any young man would want for relief. Ice crumbled while work parties were out on them, then Francis disappearing in the middle of a damned blizzard while taking damned weather readings. Not to mention what two of the men had been caught doing in the old animal pen.

Which was not what one wanted to think about when one was trying to offer one’s friend a frig; James wanted comfort, and he wanted Francis close, and he wanted those simple things without worrying about being overheard or having to time it to when everyone else was out on deck.

“...and I thought we might need it, is all. Virile young men that we are.” 

"And you said I should have no fear for my virtue," Francis said, almost managing a teasing tone as he gave James one of his cheeky smiles.

"Well," James stated, and half turned towards the door. "I'm not extending this invitation to just anyone, I'll have you know."

Francis huffed a laugh, ice chapped cheeks turning ruddy in the low lamp light. “No,” he agreed, shifting from one foot to the other. 

They had been drinking when they had first ventured to do this. Not a great deal, in fact not more than a glass of whiskey courtesy of Parry, of all deplorable things, but it had been enough to ease them into rubbing one another off behind the capstan. That had been on their last voyage together, and although nothing like fidelity could be expected from this purely practical thing Francis was James’ dearest friend so he was worth _some_ consideration at least.

"This is reckless."

"It is _you_ Francis, it is not reckless," James said, realised his candour, then tugged his coat tighter around him. "If it is a no I shall just go back to bed."

"Which would be wise, you know what we would be accused of if we are found somewhere so..."

"Well I am planning on keeping my trousers on, so I doubt we have any real worries about buggery on the horizon," James matter archly, hands on his hips.

They looked at one another and, as usually happens with good friends, after a moment they fell into guffaws, James grasping onto the sleeve of Francis's coat while he tried to stifle his laughter. 

"You _swan_ , Ross."

"I should have asked if you wanted a frig instead of all this attempt at...well, not _romance_ but..."

"I am very relieved to hear you say this is not romance, or I should have to fear for any lady you try to court."

"Oh be _quiet_ Francis," James hissed, meeting the amused glint in Francics’ eye with a glare as he finally pressed his palm over Francis’ groin. "Do you want a frig or not?"

Francis looked to the door, then back to James, what resolve he had visibly crumbling when James pushed him back against one of the gun lockers and started on the buttons of their coats. 

Even though he only had a nightshirt and trousers on underneath his greatcoat Francis was still wonderfully warm, and James slipped his arms around him to try and warm his hands a little, and also to make Francis hiss and flinch as his icy fingers dug into his sides. 

James soothed that with a kiss to his jaw, knowing he would be easily forgiven, and was proven right when Francis pulled him closer.

They engaged in some graceless rutting then, Francis getting his thigh between James's legs so he could push against it, hands grasping at one another as lips sought out the warm skin behind ears or beneath collars. It was a bit fumbling and youthful, but it was warm, and close, and it helped get them both going when the cold or danger of discovery might discourage them.

It was Francis who extricated his hand from inside of James's coat, going on to make short work of all the various buttons that kept a man in his trousers. Shirts and button plackets were pushed aside, and James wasted no time in groping Francis through his linens.

"There," James grunted when he felt Francis' prick twitch and harden further against his fingers, pressing the heel of his hand against the head until Francis jerked and gasped.

"Get on with it," Francis panted, tugging aside James' own linens to wrap his fingers around him. His hands were more broad and strong than any disreputable young lady or doxy James had ever had a tumble with, and delightfully rough also, the calluses that were dragging over the sensitive skin forcing James to swallow down a moan.

"Tighter," James ordered and Francis complied, having to change the angle of his wrist a couple of times before getting it right.

James extracted his hand from Francis’ trousers to spit noisily onto his palm before shoving it back inside his underwear, working over him hard and fast. 

The narrow little room echoed their hard breathing and swallowed down grunts back at them, the gun locker Francis was pressed against ratting every so often whenever one of them shifted. 

This was no drawn out romantic embrace, this was an act to be brought to an end as soon as possible - which after a year out of port was never a difficulty. Soon James was rolling his hips into the grip Francis had on him, going up onto his toes to chase his sharp, desperate pleasure that mounted so rapidly he had to bury his face into the shoulder of Francis’ coat least his hitched breaths be taken for a feminine sort of paroxysm. 

Francis removed his hand once James had finished spilling all over it, holding it awkwardly out to the side so as not to stain their coats while James took a moment to compose himself.

"Well," James puffed against Francis' shoulder, pressing his cheek to the comfortingly sturdy wool as he adjusted his grip on Francis’ prick. The gasp he let out caused James to smile, and he shifted his hand again, turning his head so Francis could tuck his face into James’ neck as he got about bringing him to glory.

Francis could be amazingly quiet when he took his pleasure, out of practised necessity almost as much as his natural shyness. James had been tempted before to try and get a noise out of him but the risk was too great, and the want too odd for James to wish to examine. 

So he got on with tugging on Francis’ prick with a well practised efficiency, the spit on his hand worn to nothing so Francis began to hitch and shift at the friction of skin on skin that James had never minded. He would have hawked into his hand once more - to not cause one’s companion unnecessary discomfort was the gentlemanly thing to do - when with a jerk and a choked noise from Francis a different kind of fluid was easing the way. 

James soaked in the wonderful, comforting warmth of another being, a thing that a man did not know he missed until he felt it again, for a delightful handful of seconds, listening to their combined panting and watching his own breath puff from his lips in little clouds of frozen moisture, before pulling away. 

He had brought a rag with him for the purpose of wiping away evidence, and let Francis have first go at it before cleaning his own hand as they set themselves to rights.

"I needed that,” James sighed as he slipped sideways to lean next to Francis who hummed in agreement.

They stood with their shoulders pressed together for as long as it took for the cold to start to nip at them through their clothes, which was not all that long truth be told, and then they buttoned themselves back up into their coats before shoving hands under armpits to keep the chill from their fingertips. 

“I say,” James said quietly, knocking his elbow into Francis’ side. “Do not go disappearing off into any more blizzards, do you hear?”

“Aye,” Francis muttered, smiling all the same. “I scared you, then?”

“Of course you did, I was seconds away from becoming frantic and running off in search of you when Parry brought you back from that rock you were crouched behind.”

“I am sorry.”

“There is no need for that,” James gave Francis’ forearm a squeeze. “I should simply be lost without my friend and confident.”

Francis nodded, ducking his face into his collar to hide his blush. “As would I,” he agreed, then twisted at the waist to motion at the door. “Do you wish to go first?”

“No. I woke you up so off you go.”

“All right. Good night James.”

“Good night, Frank.”

Francis listened a moment before slipping out of the door to the armoury, leaving James alone in the cold and the not so quiet. Someone else moved about the deck while he waited, but James put it down to the watch making their rounds and thought little of it. Instead he busied himself with tucking the piece of rag away into the depths of his coat to be thrown on a stove later, then with thinking about what had just occurred with a smile on his face, and finally wondering about what might be for dinner tomorrow.

When enough time had passed for Francis to be safely back in his berth and for any disturbance he may have caused to die away, James blew out the lamp, locked the door behind him, and quietly made his way towards the ladder. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Can't keep the boys from larking in the gunroom, can you.


End file.
